luxury sport
Enough niggas talk shit, Jet niggas talk rich
Buy another crib, park another drop-top in front of that bitch
Fuck a bitch, any bitch, who you want? Take your pick
But you gonn' have to take your time, baby trying to take ya shit
Fool, take advice from your nigga
An OG been-through-it veteran in a 'vette
Chevy man racing slicks, Andretti got your girlfriend track side taking flicks
Champagne rain on the winner's circle: this is it
Yeah man, you would think we was slanging 'caine out this thang
The only thing dope is the rhymes
Quotes be as strong as coke lines, man
No seat on the jet, that's a crying shame
Fool, I could show the ropes to a blind man
Straight triple-O like a thousand
Don't talk down on Jets round my dogs
Them niggas ain't peaceful as me, not at all
Saw me through the struggle, they love seein' me ball
You try to stop the rise, they'll cause you to fall
Mind playing tricks on me
Geto Boys while my rich girl twist for me
Elbows on that Cadillac Biarritz, homie
Double-parked, got my girl pulling tickets for me
No charge like my cell phone quit on me
Flight Club, sugar mamas they be trickin' on me
Sosa say, "Listen, Tony, don't ever try to fuck 'em"
You see how they done him, couldn't outrun 'em
Even though security cameras saw it comin'
Might flirt with a girl but I'm married to the money
Yellow gold wedding band: I'm a proud husband
Runnin'...
My D-O-Gs the G-O-Ds
We know the evil that ego brings
I'm sitting at the round table, at a C-note feast
And if you ain't a live nigga, then you won't eat
I don't see your piece, your name ain't on no list
You ain't sign that lease so man
Your name ain't on no whip
Gold chain swangin', your lady be hangin' on my dick
Plain niggas be blaming me, I blame it on the convo
I don't know, got some Van Goghs in the condo
She in the streets like pot-holes in Chicago
The only time she seem interest is a car note
Cause gold-diggers pay attention when you got dough
They say that Tommy Hilfiger don't like niggas
I know some niggas I don't like, so I'm right wit' ya
It's Mister... Pose-for-the-Picture
My weed smell good like a rose in the swisha
We at the Ralph Lauren grill for lunch
Jump out the 'vette with the functions
Glass bowls filled with punch
We peelin' bills out the wallet
Take a pill and if you're partying
The gaudiest, I step out the crib and get an audience
Round of applause for a nigga that ball
Let's give a hand to a powerful man
A hand clap to the nigga with racks
But we ain't giving 'em back
Stay off the phone like you sending a fax
You gettin' slapped off the gentleman, Jack
We livin' live:
Calvin Klein designed the inside of my ride
And a Jeep with the brush guard, special deluxe cars
Niggas all stepped on so hard